


Candy Corn Cravings

by naboojakku



Series: Holiday Themes [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Ben is 35, Cotton Candy Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Reylo, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Halloween, Holidays, Hungry Rey, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, LITERALLY, Lap Sitting, Light Angst, Neck Kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Linear Narrative, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pumpkin carving, Scary Movies, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Short & Sweet, Shower Sex, Silly, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smitten Ben, Teasing, Titty Worship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touching, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Zombie Apocalypse, age gap, and the D obviously, but like cotton candy corn fluff, ha ha jokes, in a movie, rey is 20, she's ravenous for the corn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboojakku/pseuds/naboojakku
Summary: Rey is obsessed with candy corn, and it’s ruining her life.Reyloween 2020 drabbles🎃
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Holiday Themes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983166
Comments: 46
Kudos: 86





	1. Season of the Corn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben arrives home early to find Rey up to no good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **each chap is just a little snippet featuring Ben, Rey, and her unholy love for candy corn** 🎃🧡

She’s organizing each piece according to size and degree of artificiality when the front door unexpectedly swings open. 

Spread in a neat arrangement on the kitchen island, candy corn, the delicacy of the autumn gods, covers the granite surface from end-to-end. The little triangles lay in tantalizing columns, but so far she’s managed to resist stuffing her face like a goddamn animal. An act of self-control if ever there was one. 

When the door opens, however, Rey freezes in place, hand hovering over a suspiciously large piece. _Suspiciously_ because it’s shaped more like a banana than candy corn, and that’s just wrong. Fruits have no place on her countertop. They, along with the vegetables, have been banished to an out-of-reach cupboard. 

Anyway. Where was she? Oh, right. Panic.

 _Ben’s home?_ she thinks, incredulous. _Ben can’t be home. Ben doesn’t come home until five. Why is Ben home?!_

“Rey?”

Sure enough, her fiancé’s voice drifts down the hall, and she listens to his heavy footsteps as they track from the doormat to the far side of the foyer where they keep the coat rack. 

Ah, _shit_. Rey stares at the rows of candy corn, at the bagless trash can, at the clock on the wall. He’s early. He’s forty-five minutes early, and there’s candy corn on the table, and she’s starving, and if she so much as drops one piece down the garbage disposal in an effort to hide her crime, she will lose her mind.

So Rey grabs a handful of the artificial sugar triangles and starts shoving them in her mouth.

She manages to fill her cheeks with three bags’ worth in less than a minute, and the remaining few are swept into a random drawer, and then Ben’s coming, he’s walking down the hall, and she’s chewing as fast as she can, as fast as her jaw will allow, which is actually pretty damn fast, and—

“Hey—”

Ben rounds the corner. She whirls to face the sink and pretends to be absorbed in...well, something. There aren’t any dishes, and the soap is glaringly dry, and she forgot to turn the faucet on to complete the illusion, but at least—

“Sweetheart.” His hands settle on her shoulders, and he leans in for a kiss. Rey hums and chews, presenting her cheek, which is still bulging, but less like a chipmunk now and more like a cute bunny rabbit. There’s a vague impression of fullness, but only if you look closely.

“What are you eating?”

...And Ben always looks closely. 

Rey huffs through her nose and swallows. “Ah, just—you know. A snack.”

Carefully, Ben lays his suit jacket on the kitchen island, probably covering the fine material with candy corn dust, and turns her around. He’s still in his flashy work attire—she routinely thanks the heavens for Johnson & Greer’s strict dress code because _wow_ —but his hair’s all mussed like he’s been running his hands through it. Stress, maybe. 

He eyes her up and down, head tilted. “A snack, huh?”

Rey nods emphatically. “Yeah, I was hungry.” She fiddles with his tie. Dark blue spirals today. Like Fourth of July sparklers. “How was work?”

He shrugs, still studying her, and ignores the question. “You seem off.”

She worries a chunk of candy that’s somehow lodged in a back tooth. Normally his perceptiveness is useful—he can tell within seconds what kind of mood she’s in—but right now she’s finding it a smidge difficult to be appreciative. 

“I’m not,” she says, and when he leans down to kiss her, neatly dodges the attempt. His mouth grazes her cheek instead, and then she’s on the opposite side of the counter, eyes on the window. 

“Maybe I’ll go for a walk later.”

Ben slides his hands into his pockets and leans against the counter. Her stomach does a slow somersault. He’s giving her A Look. She knows exactly what it means, too. This Look tells her, _Nice try._ It’s very similar to his _I’m-deeply-unimpressed_ Look, which never fails to intimidate her.

Rey tries again, pulling at the sleeves of her hoodie. “Rose wanted to know if you’ll be over for the game this weekend. Hux’s buying.”

He frowns, thrown by this revelation. “Hux never buys.”

“Yeah, well, I might’ve threatened him.” She beams and, bizarrely, throws a peace sign. It's her nerves. “Sharing is caring, you know.”

“Hux missed that lesson in kindergarten,” he mutters, turning to the nearest cabinet.

Rey lets her shoulders drop. She’s done it. The candy corn is safe. Mission accomplished. Crisis averted! 

As he fills a glass with water, Rey scans the counters for signs of her crime. No dropped or crushed pieces, no hint of the plastic bags. She’s going to get away with it, which means she’ll have no problem doing it _again_ and— 

Ben sips from his glass and asks, in a deceptively calm voice, “What is it you don’t want me to know?”

Her heart falters, and she nearly reaches out a hand to steady herself. Uh-oh. Abort, abort! “Um, I don’t know.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Rey.”

“I wasn’t doing anything!” she insists, which is more than enough evidence to confirm that she was, in fact, doing something. “You’re just—you’re home early.”

He nods slowly, watching her with those clear, all-seeing eyes. “Client cancelled my last meeting. Figured I’d come home and—”

But then his gaze drops to the island. Rey immediately tenses. There’s no way he knows what’s in that drawer. She checked—no hint of candy corn anywhere. Unless he has some kind of laser vision, Ben hasn't a clue what’s in there, and she intends to keep it that way.

 _Evasive maneuvers—now!_

She surges around the island and grabs his hand. “Ben, why don’t you get changed? Come with me on my walk.” She pouts and blinks prettily, tugging him out of the kitchen. 

He eyes her suspiciously, but when she plants a chaste kiss on the point of his chin, a smile threatens, and he allows himself to be led through the apartment. 

“Please?” she cajoles, lacing their fingers together as she walks backwards to the stairs. “I have a brand new pair of leggings that I’ve been dy—”

She trips and flies backward, but she barely has time to gasp before Ben’s scooping her up by the waist. With a grunt, he embraces her, and Rey's heart sings as it always does when the love of her life acts like...well, the love of her life. She still isn't used to his affection, even after all this time. 

Her legs wrap around him, and she laughs into his neck. “Oops.”

“Clumsy girl,” he murmurs, kissing her racing pulse. “Need to be careful. You’ll give this old man a heart attack.” 

“Oh, stop.” Rey likes to rib him about his age, but when _he_ does it, she gets insanely protective. “You’re not even middle aged.”

“Close enough,” he sighs, and she snorts another laugh at the dramatics.

Ben abruptly swivels back to the kitchen. She squawks a protest, but he sets her on the kitchen island and stares unblinkingly into her eyes.

“If I open the trash, what will I find?”

She shrugs and narrows her eyes. Was his apparent obedience before all a ploy to catch her by surprise? “Go ahead,” she challenges, draping her arms over his shoulders. 

Ben rubs his lips together, obviously thinking about it. 

“Really,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I insist.”

But he simply smiles and kisses her forehead. “I believe you.”

When he steps back, Rey reaches for the edge of the island, prepared to jump down. It’s been a long day, and all she wants is to take a nice, hot shower. Maybe pop a tablet or three of ibuprofen. Stave off the sugar rush and its subsequent crash. 

Ben places a warning hand on her thigh, firm enough to still her movements. She tilts her head questioningly, but a second later he yanks open a drawer, revealing her small pile of candy corn. Her heart drops straight through the floor like an elevator with its cables cut.

“That’s not what it looks like—” she starts guiltily, scrambling to come up with an excuse. 

“Rey…” 

She holds out her hands. “Ben, I swear!”

He sighs and palms the candy corn. “We talked about this.”

“I know! And you’re right, they _are_ bad for you,” she says, fiddling nervously with her engagement ring. “But they’re also _so_ good, Ben, like, I have no idea how—”

With a flat, unimpressed expression, he dumps the pile down the garbage disposal and flicks it on. The harsh grinding overrides her horrified exclamation, but when it eventually cuts the candy to dust and falls silent, she scowls and snaps, “That was completely unnecessary.” 

“How many times have I told you, these things will rot your—”

“If I eat them every day, then yes, _obviously_!” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “But I’m not eating them every day, so that argument is irrelevant.” 

Ben groans and runs his hands through his hair. “Sweetheart, I’m serious—”

“ _I’m_ serious,” she grumbles, pouting and glaring at the floor. “It’s not fair. They only sell them, like, three weeks a year.”

“I know—“

“And you just wasted perfectly good food!” 

“I know.”

Rey stares moodily at the hallway. “Okay, then buy me more.”

“No.” He wraps himself around her before she can escape and kisses his way up and down her neck until she goes limp. “That shit will rot your teeth—”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me ten times a day, _Dad_ —”

Ben continues, nonplussed. “It’s the single most unnatural food I have ever had the misfortune to eat—”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. What about Cheetos?”

“—and I think you’re forgetting the worst offense.”

They’ve been here before, countless times, but Rey takes the bait anyway. “Which is?”

Ben’s lips trace the outer shell of her ear. “Candy corn is _disgusting_.” 

“Ben!” She swats at his shoulder, but he laughs and carries her upstairs to the master suite, ignoring her passive aggressive insults and whines of complaint. 

“Shower time.”

“ _No_ shower time.” She drops her legs from his waist, but he immediately draws them back and pins her to the tiled wall of the bathroom. “You deprive me of my candy corn, I’ll deprive you of—”

“Of what, Rey? Hm?” He lowers his voice and leans close enough for her to taste the spearmint on his breath. “What will you deprive me of?” 

Breathless, Rey bites her bottom lip and drops her gaze to his mouth. “I—”

“You know I can take whatever I want.” His voice goes deeper, somehow, with an edge of hunger she’s been able to recognize since the day they met. It promises retribution, and heat, and _extremely_ heavy eye contact as he moves over her body. 

“You wish,” she whispers, eyes locked on his even as he hisses a frustrated breath. With a flick of his wrist, he turns on the hot water and backs her up to the tub. 

“I do,” he murmurs as his hands glide beneath the hem of her shirt, hot and heavy and so firm,so possessive, she quivers under his touch. 

“I do,” as he undresses her slowly, piece by piece by piece until it’s only her and the soft crash of water and his eyes, hands, lips on her bare skin. 

“I do,” as they twine around each other, lost and found and inevitably lost again as they devour, consume, enfold. 

“I do,” and the candy corn is all but forgotten. 

Well. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **genuine, unedited nonsense LOL oh and if you don't love candy corn that's considered sacrilege sorry I don't make the rules**


	2. Give ‘Em Pumpkin To Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  In which Rose carves a pumpkin, Rey resists her urges, and Ben thankfully wore running shoes.   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **btw ben & rey are the same iterations throughout the drabbles, but the timeline isn’t linear or cohesive**

“Is that really what he said?”

Rey, sleeves rolled to her elbows, grins and stabs a carving knife into her pumpkin. “Those exact words, my friend. He means business.”

Rose snorts and eyes her own pumpkin, which is just...well...perfectly splendid. (Thanks, Bly Manor.) The two eye holes are perfectly round, and the mouth is not a horrorshow of jagged edges, like Rey’s. Somehow she’s even managed to carve out a tiny ghost tattoo on the pumpkin’s left side, and although Rey's a weensy bit jealous of her friend’s mad pumpkin carving skills, she’s also mature enough to appreciate her artistry. 

“Ghost tattoos,” she grumbles, stabbing peevishly at some mushy pulp. “Showoff.”

(Or maybe not. She’s working on it.) 

“What was that?” Rose asks, innocently smearing green paint on the lid of Rey’s pumpkin, maintaining an offensive amount of eye contact.

She scowls and hastily wipes it up with a paper towel, but this, of course, only makes an even bigger mess. Rey sighs and stares at her poor excuse of a jack o'lantern. Even the pumpkin of the six year old kid down the table looks somewhat presentable. Hers is just an embarrassing effort at holiday cheer. 

“First opportunity, we’re smashing this.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Rose winks and smooths away a splotch of pulp.

A laugh bubbles in her chest, and for the thousandth time this year, Rey is so, so thankful she has a friend who makes things easy and fun and, most importantly, distracting. It’s a crisp fall day in late October, the cobalt blue sky is dotted with plump white clouds, and she’s carving pumpkins at a local farm with her best friend. She could do far, far worse. 

And yet—

“Maybe just a taste.”

“Hm?” Rose, absorbed in her craft, tilts her head and examines her latest stencil—a green vine woven around the lid of her pumpkin. 

Rey hesitantly reaches for the basket in the center of the table, casting furtive looks over both shoulders. The coast is clear, and she has no idea how much longer that’ll hold, so fuck it. With a rush of adrenaline, she snatches up a handful of candy corn and crushes the sugary pebbles in her mouth. A moan rises from her throat, and her eyes flutter shut. _This_. Oh, how she’s missed this. 

Beside her, Rose blinks and then, after a full-body assessment, nods knowingly. “Like I said. Withdrawal.”

“No such thing,” she mumbles, but since there are approximately forty-two pieces of candy in her mouth, it’s more like, “Oh suck ing.” 

“Girl.” Rose throws her a skeptical look. “Come on. Headaches? Fatigue? Jitters? Obsessive thoughts? Textbook symptoms.”

Rey shrugs, swallowing the mushy candy corn crumbs coating the inside of her mouth. The sugar seems to shoot straight to her veins, and all at once, her surroundings brighten. No longer dim, bland, and only moderately festive, the barn explodes into color—hearty red, sunflower yellow, pumpkin orange, and earthy brown. There are slack-mouthed ghosts swaying in the doorways, fake spiderwebs hung in the corners, apple cider donuts and pumpkin bread and peach cobbler scents mixed in the crisp air—she sees it all with new (maybe slightly crazed) eyes. She feels _exhilarated_. Like after a long, long time away—two weeks, but who’s counting—she’s finally her true self again. Finally whole. 

And the cravings hit her like a sucker punch.

Her hands start to shake. With a whimper, Rey crams a second handful in her mouth, then a third before she’s even finished chewing. Her hands still vibrate on a frequency that's probably not healthy for a human, but it's from excitement now, not anxiety. Rose watches blankly as she empties the nearest basket in record time—literally seventy seconds—and immediately goes in search of another. The six year old kid down the table frowns as she slides his basket towards her, but Rey figures she needs it more. Can’t he see she’s desperate here? 

Rose chuckles nervously. “Slow down there, tiger.” Then, when Rey continues to smother herself with the delicious, sugary tablets, adds, “Uh, seriously, Rey, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

But these admonishments fall on deaf ears. Maybe her friend has the right idea. Maybe Rey really has been going through withdrawal these past two weeks. All because _someone_ is convinced candy corn rots not only teeth but brains too. And this _someone_ thinks it’s their job to keep her away from all things candy corn, even though she’s perfectly capable of portioning it for herself. It’s called _self-control,_ and she has plenty of it. 

She glances down at her palm, which is generously smeared with orange and yellow food coloring. 

(Well, not _now_ , obviously—she’s been deprived for too long. Her urges have grown a mind of their own, and her self-control has taken a temporary backseat.)

“It’s all you think about,” Ben complained at the end of September when she ate a whole bag in one sitting. (Which, in retrospect, was nothing compared to her true candy corn-eating capabilities.) 

“I don’t think this is healthy, Rey,” he told her when she dumped three plastic bags full of candy corn on the kitchen counter after a last minute grocery run. 

“We need to do something,” he insisted when she upped her chuck at two in the morning after one too many handfuls. (In her defense, she skipped dinner and was left unsupervised in the kitchen for more than three minutes.) 

Now, Rey snorts. Shows what _he_ knows. 

“Ta-da!” Rose presents her finished pumpkin with a flourish. There’s not only a ghost tattoo, but vines and spiders and a headband of black roses. Her pumpkin even has dimples! Fucking _dimples_. 

“That’s literally the nicest pumpkin I’ve ever seen,” Rey sighs, nibbling on a particularly long piece of triangle heaven. “Where did you learn to carve like that?”

Rose tosses her hair over one shoulder. “What, like it’s hard?”

She rolls her eyes but grins too because—references. “Okay, Elle Woods. Pack it up.”

“What about yours?”

The two girls tilt their heads as they study Rey’s pumpkin. Yikes. They turn to each other with matching grimaces. It’s more of a pulpy mess than a vegetable—or is it a fruit?—so they wisely decide to leave it for the general public’s amusement. Maybe someone else will get a laugh out of it.

As Rose cleans her brushes and rearranges the tubes of paint and glitter, Rey sneaks another handful, figuring, _What the hell. I can handle it._ This is only number… Well, frankly, she’s lost count. They’ve been in here over an hour, and she’s somehow managed to make her way through three baskets of candy corn. 

Totally cool. No problem. Very manageable. Rey is now seeing sounds.

Right as she’s slipping one-two-three more pieces into her mouth, a shadow blocks the entrance to the barn. Her gaze drifts over the tall figure, and she wonders, not for the first time, if Ben’s having fun in the market. He wanted to buy some specialty snacks for Mitaka’s daughter Milana, who's sick with the flu, but since he’s notoriously people-phobic, she imagines it’s turned into quite a challenge. The farm is _packed_ this weekend, and Ben is very touch-avoidant with people who aren't her.

The shadow figure steps forward and locks eyes with Rey, and it’s only as his burning amber pupils expand that she realizes _this_ is Ben. This is Ben, and he’s staring at her like she just kicked a puppy. She wonders distantly what she’s done to warrant the Dr. Doom look, but then—

Her hand freezes in the act of feeding her gaping maw more candy corn. Oh. Right. _That._

She smiles, pretending everything's normal, and waves. He stares. 

Then Ben’s mouth hardens into a tight line, and he jerks a finger at her like a referee singling out a naughty player. The candy corn slips through her fingers and bounces across the surface of the table. His face is both incredulous and vaguely amused, like he’s moved by her sheer audacity. She did promise to avoid the candy two weeks ago when he cornered her in their bedroom, but really, that promise shouldn’t count—she’d been under duress! (And also in the early throes of sugar withdrawal, which is much, _much_ worse and something she was not keen on mentioning.)

Movement out of the corner of her eye: Rose, who’s seen Ben and has obviously bore witness to their silent, across-the-room exchange. She looks absolutely horrified, and Rey feels a brief but poignant flare of warmth for her bestie. Rose understands what’s at stake now. _He means business,_ Rey told her when they first entered the pumpkin carving area, and one look at that face is all the confirmation they need. 

He is _so_ going to punish her when they get home. 

Rose’s eyes widen as Ben steps forward, and she opens her mouth in a comically round O. Her voice is loud and strangely drawn-out when she cries, “Run, Rey! RUN!” 

And so Rey, who by this point is positively out of her mind with sugar and unable to comprehend the true degree of urgency, runs.

Time speeds up again. (Honestly now, how much of that shit _did_ she eat?) She passes the end of her table, ignoring the shrewd look of that six year old kid, and breaks for the barn’s side entrance. She bumps shoulders with a few people and hastily apologies as she races across the dirt paths and through a massive Halloween display. A wart-nosed witch cackles as she trips and stumbles her way towards the only place on the farm that will provide any cover—the corn maze.

Batting aside wayward stalks, Rey runs through the maze, panting heavily, feeling sick to her stomach. It feels as if each individual piece of candy corn is heaving side to side like they’re partying in a bouncy house, which should be impossible for a number of reasons, not the least of which is because she crushed each one with her teeth, she _knows_ she did, and yet she swears there’s a soft, rhythmic clacking as they dance and collide inside her stomach. 

And then, because things aren’t weird enough with the whole “seeing sounds” thing, the candy corn starts talking to her.

 _You love us, Rey,_ the sugary devils moan. She wings a right down a long stretch of corn. _You love us so much, and we love you, too. Never give us up._

Jesus. 

She skids to a stop when she meets a dead-end. Crap. Wrong turn. She backtracks and makes a left turn instead of a right. Two minutes later she veers sharply into yet _another_ dead-end. What the hell! A creepy scarecrow looms over her, its mirthless, too-wide smile following her as she stumbles away in search of respite from the moaning candy—who are cheering as she twirls through the stalks—and hopefully out of Ben’s reach. 

“Thought this place was family friendly,” she mutters under her breath, shoving aside corn stalks that tilt across the path. Her heart has settled somewhat—there’s no chance Ben will find her here—and she slows to a walk as the minutes tick past. Directions, GPS-enabled or otherwise, have never been a particular talent of hers. Getting lost is a genuine worry. But she inhales and counts to ten. All she has to do is find another group, and they’ll lead her straight to the exit—no big deal. 

Another dead end. Rey sighs, frustrated and vaguely nervous. Stupid idea, running into a corn maze. No matter how long it takes, Ben will wait, and when she finally slinks from the corn with her head down and her tail between her legs, he’ll be right there, arms crossed, look of exasperation on his severe face. Her cheeks redden at the thought. 

She rounds a corner and braces herself for yet another dead end, but instead she slams into a wall. Her breath is yanked from her lungs, and she gapes soundlessky as she staggers and begins to fall. But then there are arms around her, encircling her waist, and she smells a confusing mixture of potpourri and cinnamon and hay, and so she screams, naturally, because a _stranger_ is touching her, a stranger is touching her in a corn maze, and if this isn’t the start to every cheesy B-Grade horror movie out there—

“Rey!”

His voice pierces her panic spiral, and she unthinkingly kicks out. Ben loses his balance, and they both tumble to the ground. He twists at the last second to take the brunt of the impact, and Rey’s forehead bounces off his chest, and they both groan. But there are no broken bones, no cuts, (certainly some minor bruising), and for a long moment she just lays there. On her boyfriend’s chest. On the hard-packed dirt. In the middle of a corn maze straight from a Stephen King novel. 

“What were you thinking?” Ben demands, sounding out of breath.

She winces and remembers the candy corn (who have thankfully gone silent). “Well—”

“You _hate_ corn mazes,” he continues, shaking his head. His beautiful hair is covered in a thin layer of hay. “I know how you feel about getting lost.”

“Oh.” So...not about the candy corn. Maybe that’s a good thing because, uh, she’s still seeing sounds. “Well, you were _chasing_ me!” 

“You were running,” he counters, pulling her tight to his chest. 

“Because you were mad,” she mumbles, recalling his tight-lipped frown in the entrance to the barn. 

“I’m never mad,” he murmurs, and then when she throws him a look of pure, abject astonishment, concedes, “At you, baby. I’m sometimes mad at...other things.”

“You're telling me,” she grumbles. Last week Ben damn near lost his mind because a kitten was left unsupervised on their neighbor’s front lawn. She taught him breathing exercises that night, but the results are inconclusive. 

Ben hauls them both to their feet and sweeps a broad hand over her hair, picking out crinkly pieces of hay. He looks concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

Rey shakes her head. Still no mention of candy corn, so maybe she’s off the hook. “Let’s go. Rose is probably wondering where we are. And...sorry for running.” She grabs her fiancé by the hand and begins to tow him in a random direction. (Her guess is as good as anyone’s. Well...no, it’s probably worse.) 

“Hold on a second,” Ben orders, stopping them both in their tracks. She tugs fruitlessly on his wrist, but it’s no use. He is unbudgeable. “Care to explain what that was all about?”

Rey shrugs and peers at the sky. Decides to pretend nothing unusual is going on. Although maybe an airplane will drop from the clouds and smoosh her before he figures out that—

“You were eating candy corn again, weren’t you.” His voice is completely inflectionless.

“No.”

“Rey, I saw you.”

“Nope,” she argues, swinging her arms. 

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Is that the extent of your argument, sweetheart?"

“Must’ve been a trick of the light.” She sniffs and glances around. The exit has to be around here somewhere…

Ben huffs and drags a hand down the side of his face. “I leave you unsupervised for twenty minutes—”

“Twenty—?” Rey frowns, immediately drawn back in. “Ben, you were gone for at _least_ an hour. Rose had time to carve an entire pumpkin. In great detail,” she mutters under her breath, still jealous. 

Ben looks perplexed. “Are you sure? Shit.” He stares blankly at the wall of corn stalks. “I guess time really does fly when you’re hunting for pumpkin spice coffee creamer.”

She smacks his arm. “Talk about unsupervised. You’re like an old woman who spends three hours at the grocery store because she can’t decide between orange or apple Jello.”

He straightens and plucks nonchalantly at the collar of her coat. “We’re getting away from the issue here.”

Because she doesn’t want to stand there while he lectures her on the importance of general health _again_ , Rey simply turns on her heel and starts walking. “Just because _you_ have trouble making pumpkin spice-related decisions does not mean—”

He’s on her in a second, lifting her around the waist and twirling in the opposite direction until he can deposit her in yet another of the maze’s ubiquitous dead ends. 

“I leave you alone—” he continues in a low voice, holding her by the lapels of her peacoat.

“I was with Rose.”

“—for an _hour,_ and you go absolutely off the rails—”

“It was sitting _right there,_ Ben, how do you expect me to—”

“—and then I have to hunt and chase you down like a damn wolf. Werewolf.”

She gives him a look. 

“What?” He grins wickedly. “It’s Halloween. I’m making it relevant.”

“Maybe if you let me eat a few pieces every now and again, I wouldn’t feel the need to choke myself with, like, half a gallon’s worth.” 

He laughs. “Oh, baby, no. You can’t measure candy corn in _gallons_ —”

“Anyway!” she interrupts loudly, because he’s right, of course, and she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Ben groans and buries his face in her hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t say that,” she mumbles, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. His warmth seeps into her all at once, like a heater turned to full blast, and she gratefully sinks into him. “ _Candy corn_ will be the death of you. And me. Or maybe both of us, who’s to say for certain—”

“Let’s go,” Ben interrupts abruptly, shaking his head. He unerringly leads them to the exit of the corn maze, much to her chagrin. Instead of heading for the barn, however, he squints across the farm, waves to Rose, and proceeds to the parking lot.

“Hey!” she cries, swiveling to search out her friend. Rose is carrying her pumpkin and already heading into the market area. Probably going to fetch some cider sticks for Hux’s coffee. Pretentious douche. “Ben, I need to say goodbye!”

Ben tsks, his eyes scouting the overcrowded lot for their Infiniti. “No, you don’t. Rose is coming over tomorrow for dinner, remember?”

Rey settles a little. She definitely forgot about their standing dinner invitation. Dates and appointments are Ben’s area of expertise. “Okay, so why are you in a rush?”

“We need to get home before you crash.”

Confused, she glances up at him, wondering if she's already exhibiting signs of the inevitable sugar crash...and nearly falls over at the expression on his face. His eyes are pitch black, jaw clenched, mouth curved in a grim smile.

“Why?” she squeaks, forgetting all about Rose and her perfect pumpkin and the mountains of candy corn waiting to be devoured. (Oh, how she's missed them.)

Ben suddenly grabs the back of her neck and pulls her to a stop in the middle of the parking lot. He dips down and speaks softly into her ear. “You’re in a lot of trouble, little girl.”

_Oh._

And when he releases his hold, she races him to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **methinks candy corn isn't the only thing Rey will drop everything for**


	3. Fool Me Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey wakes before Ben.

Dawn light slants through the blinds, spearing a brilliant dagger across Rey’s pillow. She blinks sleep-heavy eyes and grunts her displeasure. 

Mornings suck. _All_ mornings—she doesn’t discriminate. 

Her hand sneaks from beneath the covers in search of the vintage bedside clock her friend Rose gifted her for St. Patrick’s Day (the girl was notoriously—and unreasonably—fanatical about holidays). Instead, she bumps into her phone, which she didn’t realize was there because she never keeps track of the stupid thing, and flips it over with numb fingers. The display flashes a truly horrifying sight: 5:21 a.m. 

“Kill me,” she whimpers, her brain fighting valiantly against a surge of awareness, legs stretching flat on the mattress, toes pointed as she works the night’s kinks from her body. 

Bones creak, her head swims, and the spot between her legs aches _deliciously_. Her thighs tighten as she remembers Ben hovering above her, eyes glazed, tousled hair falling across his forehead, the two of them setting a familiar rhythm that swayed the bed. God, the way he _looks_ at her—Rey shivers and burrows deeper under the covers. She’ll never get over it. 

Despite her current exhaustion, she remembers in vivid detail his gentleness, his care and concern for her pleasure, and then—with an abruptness that always takes her breath away—how rough, how fast, how absolutely desperate he’ll get to have her. He will meld their bodies together as if trying to fuse them into one, and even as they climax, sweaty and shaking and delirious, his hands will dig at her hips and wrists, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

And afterward, the things he’ll say, voice breaking, the promises he’ll make, mouth to her ear—all spoken in a hushed whisper, breathless and husky and _wanting_. A smile curves her lips, and Rey shuffles to her side, folding an arm beneath her pillow to support her head. 

She has never been wanted like this. Not before Ben.

He’s still fast asleep, lips parted, lying flat on his back like a total nerd. She once told him that nobody but psychopaths sleep like that, but he insisted people with big brains know that’s the “optimal position.” 

“Oh, sure, a big _something_ ,” she’d muttered, side-eyeing him. His smile had been slow and dangerous and plenty wicked, and for a long while after that, the two of them forgot their conversation. They inevitably return to it time and again when she catches him _optimally positioning_. 

(For the record, people who sleep on their backs definitely have something wrong with them. She will not recount that.) 

Rey observes the subtle rise and fall of his bare chest, pale in the early morning light. There are faded scars across his collarbones from his days in the military, and the puckered flesh of a bullet wound in his right shoulder that didn’t heal right. She resists the urge to reach out and trace the plump curve of his lips, the rash of dark stubble on his cheeks, the straight line of his nose. 

His chin tilts up fractionally, eyelids fluttering, as if he's reaching for something in dreams—the one place she can’t follow, though damn if she hasn’t tried. On the day he proposed, Rey promised him that wherever he went, whether it was somewhere distant or dark or dangerous, she wouldn’t be far behind. Try as he might to get rid of her, she informed him, there’s not a chance in hell he’ll be able to shake her loose. He has demons—they both do, of course—but unlike her, Ben sometimes finds it impossible to escape. 

She knows all too well what that's like. 

Her heart aches even now at the memory of his low points over the years—rage and tears and a pervasive sense of helplessness. All those times she arrived home only to be tackled to the floor, the sofa, the bed, his hands tearing at her, desperate for comfort and safety and _love_ because he had been deprived of it for so long. Even now, she burns at the thought of what she might do with ten minutes alone with those who tormented him.

“I will never leave you,” she whispers, then and now. “Never, Ben.” 

Never. 

Rey gently strokes a finger down his chest, marveling at the heat of his skin. Like her own miniature sun. Her free hand dips blow the covers and rummages around. It’s not often she wakes before Ben—he’s a notoriously early riser—so this opportunity to admire him is a rare one. 

She finds what she’s looking for and brings a hand to her mouth, still marveling. Her boyfriend. Her best friend. Her fiancé. And soon—she can hardly believe it—her (  
_husband_. The very idea is baffling—incredible—unfathomable, really. All manner of exaggerated descriptor. 

Rey Johnson, she of the homeless, loveless, relatively meaningless life, deprived of family and safety and belonging, will soon be married. To a man who sings her to sleep at night in an off-key baritone when she’s restless. To a man who juggles eggs in the morning just to see her smile. To a man who will drive three hours to fix a flat tire on a mall trip gone awry. 

To a man who respects her, and adores her, and teases and holds and _loves_ her because she is his person, and he is hers, and there is no universe where one exists without the other. There is no universe where they are not together. Two bodies, one soul. 

Unable to resist, Rey scootches closer and kisses his collarbone, nearest his heart. She moves away when his chest stutters, hoping she hasn’t woken him from what’s obviously a deep sleep, but a few seconds pass, and then Ben’s eyes flicker open, mouth working as he drags himself awake. 

“Mm. Hey.” His voice is scratchy and rough, and it sends tingles all over her body like soft static. 

“Hi,” she whispers, with a small grin. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping.”

He moves his head on the pillow—negating this statement. “Don’t be sorry. _Love_ kisses.”

She laughs, eyes crinkling, and clutches at the covers bunched beneath her chin. “Guess what?”

“Mmph.” He grunts, already half-asleep again. Normally this would deter her, but what she has to say is important.

“You’re very handsome, and I love you.”

Ben smiles sleepily and pats around for her hand. He draws her knuckles to his mouth and brushes his lips across each one. “I love you too. So much.”

She hums happily, eyes wandering to the closed door. Her mind’s on breakfast and what’s available—bacon for sure, eggs too, maybe some sausage patties. She works her jaw, pushing her tongue around, and feels Ben stiffen. Her attention swings back to him. 

Ben’s eyes are wide open now, head tilted on the pillow, and he takes a long look at her face, highlighted by the encroaching sunlight. When he groans, that heart-melting smile disappears. “Rey, are you— Please tell me you’re not—”

She raises an eyebrow and swallows, smacking her lips. “What?”

Ben yanks the covers down to her waist, revealing a half-empty bag of— “ _Are you eating candy corn in our bed?!_ ”

She shrugs. “Yeah.” 

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **read the room, Rey**


	4. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey fails an exam and forgets her umbrella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **sad reyloween??? in _this_ economy?**
> 
> **CW: hurt/comfort, light angst, low self-esteem, sad with a happy ending**

She keeps her composure as the remaining exams are passed out to her peers. On her left, Jannah Jones sighs, obviously disappointed with her score. There’s a wave of disgruntled murmurs interspersed with the occasional relieved exclamation. 

She keeps her composure as the professor reminds them of the paper due next week, of the group presentation at the end of the semester, and of extra credit opportunities. He wishes everyone a Happy Halloween with a wry twist of his mouth and releases them.

She keeps her composure as her classmates rush from the room, jostling her shoulders and stepping on the heel of her muddy Converse, all of them eager to take advantage of the holiday weekend. 

She even keeps her composure as she slowly opens the exit door nearest the sidewalk and stumbles into a crisp, fifty degree day—a brisk wind, the sussurating rustle of dead leaves, the faint tinge of woodsmoke in the air. 

And rain. 

It’s the rain that finally cracks the mask she’s worn since Professor Calrissian handed her last month’s exam. Water pours from the sky in sheets, and because she’s an idiot, because she’s a fucking _moron_ who apparently can’t do anything right, the umbrella that’s supposed to be kept at the bottom of her backpack is actually at home, hung on the coatrack instead because she spilled iced coffee yesterday and needed to clean it. 

It’s too much. Rey stands at the top of a small stack of stairs outside the marketing building and begins to cry. She cries because it’s raining and her face is wet anyway. She cries because she doesn’t have her umbrella so she’s soaked to the skin, and everyone knows wet jeans are the worst. She cries because the glaring red F on her exam was supposed to be an easy A, it was supposed to be a passing grade, and she is _such_ an idiot. 

Why did she think attending college at twenty was a good idea? In comparison, everyone seems so fucking young and idealistic. She recognizes that there’s only two years between her and the rest of her classmates, but it feels like two _decades_. She looks at them and sees boundless opportunity. They have the world at their feet, and when _they_ study, they do well. When Rey studies, she has to do so for hours and hours, and even then it’s not enough. She’s tired and frankly embarrassed to be twenty years old with only a high school degree under her belt. She feels like a loser. 

The exam proves that she doesn't just _feel_ like one—she _is_ one. 

_You should drop out,_ she tells herself, staring blankly at the parking lot. _You’re never going to make it to the end of the program. You’ll fail and embarrass yourself._

And then, the very worst thing of all: _You’ll fail and embarrass Ben._

She begins to cry in earnest. To be bad at something is one thing—to suffer and stress for it—but to have that failure reflected back on _Ben_ is horrifying on a level she can’t put into words. He works so hard to support the both of them, and he’s so damn smart he has not one but two advanced degrees, and when he suggested she go for her bachelor’s, all she wanted was to make him proud. The degree itself is secondary. 

She stumbles down the cement steps, fruitlessly wiping at the tears and rain on her cheeks. All thoughts of costume shopping, of selecting bags upon bags of chocolate and candy corn from the discount candy store down the block, of cuddling on the couch with a bowl of caramel-drizzled popcorn on her lap and a scary movie playing on their big-screen TV flies right out the window.

How can she concentrate on Halloween, knowing she’s already ruined things? It’s only October, for Christ’s sake! They're barely mid-way through the semester.

Fuck. She doesn't spiral often, but when she does, it's full-steam ahead.

Rey staggers down the sidewalk, chest heaving. It’s not fair of her to enjoy the holiday weekend. Halloween is one of her favorite times of the year, excluding Christmas, of course, but the shame is so overpowering she can’t see around it. How can she have fun when she should be studying? How is she supposed to greet groups of sugar-high kids in vampire and witch and cowboy costumes when that F is attached to _her_ name? 

She’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn’t realize her phone’s chiming until it vibrates repeatedly in her jacket pocket. Sniffling, she extracts the stupid thing and finds several texts from Ben. 

3:39 p.m.

**Finished with class?**  
**It’s pouring out, do you want me to pick you up?**  
**I think your umbrella’s still at home.**

3:51 p.m.

**Hey, you there?**

3:56 p.m

**Rey.**

Two missed calls. 

3:59 p.m.

**Rey, you need to pick up the phone.**

Her eyes water, and she jerkily types out a response. Sometimes she’ll take the bus to campus if it’s a nice day. They only live twenty minutes down the road, and she enjoys the fresh air. Clears her head when she’s been stuck in a classroom all day. But she didn’t anticipate the rain. 

She didn’t anticipate a lot of things. 

An incoming call lights up the screen, replacing her text, and Ben’s name shows on the caller ID. 

As soon as Rey clicks accept and brings the phone to her ear, he barks, “Where are you?” 

She struggles for a long moment to get herself under control. If she opens her mouth at the wrong time, a flood of tears and gasps and babbling nonsense will come out instead of an actual answer, and she doesn’t want to burden Ben with this. She doesn’t.

 _All your fault. You should’ve studied more. You should've tried harder. Stupid, so stupid._

“ _Rey._ ” His voice verges on a shout, and she hears an edge of something unfamiliar. She doesn’t know what it is but can’t think past the shame anyway. 

“I’m h-here—“ she manages, hiccups threatening to override the words. _Get it together, get it together, come on, Rey!_

“Where are you?” he demands, and she hears the rustle of fabric in the background. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, that’s not—I’m _fine_ —“ But her voice squeaks, and she breaks down into tears again. 

Ben’s voice rings loudly from the small speaker. “Are you hurt?” 

She gasps and tries to catch her breath, but it’s like trying to breath through wool. Her nose is stuffed, and she can barely see ten yards in front of her. The campus is mostly deserted—students are either in their dorms by now or else waiting out the deluge somewhere warm. 

“I—I—”

“ _REY._ " Thunderous now. " _Are you hurt?_ ” 

“No!” she blurts, frightened by the intensity in his voice. “That’s not it—I’m—” And in a very small whisper tells him, “I’m j-just stupid, Ben.”

He doesn’t speak for a minute or so, but in the background she catches what sounds like the slam of a car door. 

“I’m tracking your location,” he says gruffly, all business. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“B-but it’s a twenty minute drive—”

“Ten minutes.” His voice is calm now, and she instinctively relaxes at the familiar cadence. Low and warm and intimate. It edges out the blare of a horn and the squeal of tires on asphalt. 

Guilt swamps her then. He’s driving recklessly in the pouring rain just to get to her. Just to find out that she’s failed an important test because she is an absolute _failure_ of a—

“Rey.”

“Here,” she whispers, trudging along the edge of campus. Her hair sticks to her cheeks, but she doesn’t brush it aside. What’s the point, you know? 

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not,” she says dully.

“Okay, can you—”

“My phone’s getting wet.” She realizes belatedly that her phone is, in fact, soaked, and this brings another round of tears. If it’s damaged in any way, she won’t be able to afford a replacement. 

“ _Rey_ ,” he says sharply. “You need to stay on the phone. Don’t—” 

But she’s already dragging it away from her ear. Clicking **END CALL**. Tossing it in her coat pocket, where maybe—just maybe—it’ll be safe from the rain. She wipes under her nose and continues to walk blindly forward. 

Ben’s on his way. He knows exactly where she is. Things will be okay. 

But they really won’t because she’s failed one test—a big one, an _important_ one—and if she fails one then it’s just as likely she’ll fail another, too, and after that it’s just a downward spiral to failing the class and the program and out of college altogether. She never should’ve signed on for this. But Ben was so insistent, so eager to help and so convinced she would thrive. In the end, she’ll fail him too. 

Rey passes a dorm building festooned with fake cobwebs and carved pumpkins and glow-in-the-dark stickers, and a smile nearly breaks across her face before she remembers that there’s no reason for her to celebrate this weekend, not when there are hours and hours of studying to look forward to. Her breath hitches, and she cries quietly as she passes beneath a tree that’s already lost all its leaves. They crinkle underfoot as she shuffles past, eyes bloodshot. 

Her mind returns again and again to that awful red F. The moment her gaze lit on the exam paper. The moment the smile dropped from her lips as it registered that she did not do well, she did not collect 200 dollars, she did not pass GO. The moment she knew—she _knew_ with a certainty that was rare but sadly not unfamiliar—that she had made a mistake. 

College is not for her, she sees that now. It’s beyond her _very_ limited abilities, and she should’ve expected this, she should’ve known that this is another part of life she simply doesn’t understand how to navigate. Looking at that red F, a wave of embarrassment hit—her first reaction. And then the shame, and the crippling despair as she imagined showing Ben. 

Rey stops in her tracks and covers her face. He’s going to be so disappointed in her, isn’t he? The thought is unbearable. She chokes on a sob and hunches her shoulders against the rain. God, it’s so fucking _cold_ , and she’s wet everywhere, and all she wants is to close her eyes and forget—

A car screeches to a stop at the curb, and a second later a door slams shut. Rey doesn’t move. Maybe she’s about to be kidnapped, which would certainly not be ideal, and yet there’s still a very small chance that it _might_ solve all her problems, so really—

“Oh no, no.” Ben pulls her into his chest, arms winding around her body with a force that startles the increasingly dark thoughts from her head. “Rey, honey.”

She clutches at the front of his sweater, stammering, “You’re g-getting w-wet,” but he simply sighs and hugs her tighter. 

“That’s the least of my worries.” He rocks them side to side, his mouth pressed to her temple. 

Her sobs gradually subside, and awareness creeps back in. They’re standing on the sidewalk at the edge of her college campus, and she’s soaked to the skin and shaking from a combination of cold and adrenaline. All because she couldn’t handle a bit of bad news. 

She sniffles and pushes her face into his shoulder. “We can go home now."

Ben nods, but he doesn’t release her. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“...A test,” she mutters, cheeks flaring red with embarrassment. “I just—I failed my last exam. It’s not a big deal.” She keeps her eyes lowered so she won’t witness his reaction. 

“I think it is,” he says gently, smoothing his hands up and down her arms to warm her up. “I think it’s a very big deal.”

“I thought I passed, and I—didn’t,” she finishes lamely, trying to extricate herself from his embrace. “It’s my fault. I should’ve studied harder.”

“It’s one test,” he murmurs, holding her fast, brushing aside her attempts to break free, even as rivulets of rainwater drip down the sides of his face. “You’ll do better next time.” 

“Maybe,” she whispers, unable to look at him. “Maybe I’m just stupid. Maybe I don’t belong here. Maybe—”

Ben’s voice drops an octave. “What you’re _not_ going to do is call yourself names.” He gently cradles her face and forces her to make eye contact. “You are incredibly smart, Rey. And clever and adaptable and persistent. You are so goddamn persistent— _stubborn_ —sometimes I wonder that the world doesn’t just fall into line too.” 

She snorts a derisive laugh—as if—but his hold on her remains firm, face serious. “You have a _huge_ brain, Rey. Gigantic. It's almost offensive. And this exam is just a small misstep. In two weeks, or four, or six, when you sit down and take another one, you'll be ready.”

“You can’t know that—”

“I guarantee it,” he interrupts fiercely, dropping his forehead on hers. “You’re going to knock the scores of those eighteen-year-old sorority boys and frat girls out of the park.”

Rey laughs weakly. “You did that on purpose.”

“Did what?” His brow crinkles. “I thought that was a pretty decent speech.”

“It’s sorority _girls_ and frat _boys_.” 

He shrugs innocently. “Forgive an old man his mistake. I’m bound to slip up occasionally.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “You’re not old.”

He hums but doesn’t counter. When he leans down to brush a kiss across her lips, she rises on the balls of her feet to press their mouths together. A sharp inhale is her only warning, and then he’s backing her up against the side of the car, hands roaming the plains of her back, dipping to the waistband of her jeans. 

“You had me so fucking worried,” he breathes, planting rough kisses on her neck. She melts into him, guilt flaring hot. “I thought—something happened—”

Rey breaks away, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry. My head got all—” She waves a hand expansively. 

“I told you not to hang up on me,” he scolds. 

She grimaces and ducks her head. “I know. Sorry.” 

“Troublesome,” he growls, kissing along her jaw until she squeaks and fights back, dodging his attempts by tickling his ribs. He leaps aside with a playful glare. 

Rey bites her bottom lip. 

“Car,” he orders gruffly, pointing at the passenger side. “Now.”

Her expression falters. “Ben, I’m all wet—”

He raises a single eyebrow. Uh-oh. There is no argument to be made when he brings out the eyebrow. 

Rey timidly opens the door and slips into the warm confines of his Tesla. Heated seats. She’s never been more thankful for this insanely expensive upgrade. Ben enters the car a moment later and clicks the automatic locks, sealing them inside. With another one of his patented Looks, he waits patiently for her to strap in. 

Finally, they’re off. Campus, as she guessed from a glance, is dead. Nothing moves but windblown leaves and the occasional white plastic bag from CVS. Rey, still absurdly teary-eyed, wipes her face dry as best she can with hands wrinkly from rain and stares out of the window. Maybe she can salvage the failing grade. Professor Calrissian did mention something about extra credit points—

Her eyes drift downward. The center console is open, which isn’t unusual—Ben often has three or four different cords plugged in at a time to charge his various devices—but what’s inside isn’t anything like an iPad or MacBook. 

It's an unopened bag of candy corn. 

Rey swivels to look at her fiancé, who’s staring straight out of the windshield, face carefully neutral. The wipers sway rhythmically as she blinks at him. But he doesn’t say a word. 

Heart full with something unexplainable, something perilously like hope, Rey slips a piece into her mouth and reaches for Ben’s hand. He squeezes lightly and flicks on his blinker. 

Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance she’ll enjoy the weekend after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **it's that stressful time of the year for those of you still in school: the end of mid-terms and the slow lead-up to finals!! so take care of yourselves!! no grade is worth your mental stability**


	5. Death By Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ben gets drunk and Rey takes advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **b o o b i e s**

The moment Ben notices her in the doorway, a big, loose grin spreads across his face. His arms open wide, nearly knocking a platter of skeleton cupcakes to the floor. All the little candy bones rattle like they’re trying their darndest to reanimate. 

“Rey!” he cries, voice loud enough to pierce the general hubbub. “ _There_ she is. My wife-to-be!”

She laughs and closes the distance between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Hux and Rose, dressed as vampires, furiously making out by the fridge. Their host skills could probably use some refining, but she definitely won’t be the one to tell them that.

Ben’s arms snake around her waist, and he nuzzles her chest. “I missed you,” he sighs. 

“You saw me twenty minutes ago, honey.” Rey shakes her head. For some reason, whenever he passes a certain drunk threshold, time ceases to make sense to him. 

“Yeah, but then you _left_ ,” he exclaims, his mouth roving dangerously close to her nipples. She casts a quick look around, but the party’s in full swing—everyone’s either too drunk, high, or blissed out on sugar to notice. 

“I wasn’t even gone for—”

“Don’t leave,” he murmurs, inhaling the scent of her shirt, which probably smells like the hummus she dropped on it earlier. 

“I’m right here,” she laughs, secretly pleased by his clinginess. Normally he’s a very affectionate man anyway, but when he drinks, that particular knob is dialed to eleven.

But Ben’s still unsatisfied. With bumbling, overeager movements, he pulls her up until she’s straddling his lap. Her knee bumps the kitchen table, and when she winces, he shoots the offending object a look of pure venom. 

“I’m gonna cut this fucking thing with a chainsaw,” he swears, eyes swinging wildly around the room as if he’s just going to find one next to the fridge. 

“Relax, dear.” She pats his shoulder. “When you drink, you kind of forget how big you are.”

He grumbles but, seemingly mollified by this truth, encircles her waist with his hands, fingers meeting around her rib cage. He stares as if all the secrets of the universe may be found in the tips of his fingers.

“...You okay?” From the living room, Jannah lets loose a shrill scream as a fake spider drops directly in front of her face. Finn cackles delightedly. 

He mumbles and finally says, “You’re small.”

“I know. You tell me all the time.”

“I could probably crush you.”

“Uh-huh.” She swings her legs on either side of his hips, wondering how much longer they have before he crashes. Good thing they’re spending the night here. Neither of them are in the right frame of mind to drive so much as ten yards let alone ten miles. 

“Would you be mad?”

Rey returns her attention to the conversation—if it could even be called that—at hand. “Mad at what?”

“If I crushed you.”

“Um, yes, Ben, that would probably upset me.” 

“It would probably upset me too,” he sighs, shoulders slumping like he’s just confirmed some long-awaited bad news. 

Her eyes skim the kitchen table, and when they find what they’re looking for, she smiles. “Would you be mad if I took advantage of you?”

He gasps excitedly. “I _always_ want you to take advantage of me. You’re my _wife_.” 

Even though the title isn’t yet true, and even though it’s a slight over-exaggeration—he’s affectionate and always down for sexy times, yes, but he’s still nowhere near _her_ level of horny—Rey tilts her head and pokes his cheek. “Then as my husband, who is currently inebriated and therefore unable to defend himself, you have to do what I say.”

He nods, even as his gaze trails from her face to her chest. “You look fantastic.”

Her hand slides across the table and grabs a cute little pumpkin dish Rose picked out at the local farmer’s market. “So do you.”

“But—” he splutters, eyes widening. “Rey, your _boobs_.” 

She bursts out laughing even as he carefully palms her breasts, which are pushed-up and, dare she say, looking hot as hell, thanks to the too-tight corset she bought as part of her fallen angel costume. Ben nearly prevented her from leaving the house earlier, claiming no one should have the honor of seeing both her legs _and_ her tits looking so “gloriously edible.” Which, let’s be honest, really did things for her ego. 

“Do they look nice?” she asks innocently, covering his hands with her own and applying the slightest bit of pressure so her breasts pop even more. 

“Nice?” he demands. “Do they look—? These are the prettiest boobs I have _ever_ seen.” 

She melts, even though, in terms of compliments, this is pretty tame for him. “Aw, thanks, babe. I’ll let you kiss them later.” 

But his eyes are glazed, and since he already looks like he very much wants to kiss them now—and might actually do so—she heads him off by placing a piece of candy corn against his lips. 

He startles. “What’s— Oh.”

She barely suppresses her laughter. The disappointment on his face—priceless. “Open up!”

He shakes his head mulishly. “No, no, and no. I’m not going to—”

She slips a piece of candy corn into his mouth, cutting him off, and smiles benignly when his eyes go comically wide. 

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” she coos, brushing a loose curl off his forehead. 

Ben slowly chews, swallows, and stares at her like she’s just fed him poison. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

She wags a finger. “Don’t quote Vines at me, old man. If you’ll just give them a chance—”

He moans and closes his eyes. “I thought you _loved_ me.” 

“I do—”

“My own wife!” he laments, throwing his head back. _Here we go with the theatrics,_ she thinks with a giggle. “Trying to smother me with—with— _artificial sugar_ —”

“Oh, the horror,” she mocks, kissing his cheek. When he glares and opens his mouth to argue, she simply pops in another piece. He splutters, but she kisses him hard on the mouth until he swallows. 

“Is this—” he begins haltingly “—torture?” 

She snorts and shoves a handful of candy corn down her throat. Thank god Hux is an idiot and forgot that his house needs to be a candy-corn-free zone whenever she comes over. Rose will probably yell at him for it later, but for once she has something good to say about him, so really, everybody wins. 

“Death by candy corn,” she says sadly, pushing out her lips. He mirrors her, and the sight is so fucking adorable she coos and peppers his face with kisses. “You’re so cute when you’re offended.”

“I’m so cute _all_ the time,” he slurs, palming her ass. 

“And modest.”

“Rey.” He sways forward, chin dipping low so he can whisper in the general vicinity of her ear. “Let’s have sex when we get home.”

She grabs for his hands, but they’re underneath her now, and he’s squeezing and groping like a drunk frat boy who’s desperate to get laid. With no consideration for the numerous couples surrounding them, he buries his face in her breasts and sloppily kisses them.

“Ben!” Her cheeks flood with heat, but she doesn’t stop him. Instead, she runs her hands through his hair, pulling lightly. “Honey, we’ll have plenty of time for that later.” 

“But I want you now,” he mumbles, nudging aside the cups of her corset. She hastily rights the straps before a nipple pops free. 

Sensing an opening, she says, “I’ll let you play with my tits if you eat more candy corn.”

His head shoots up, and when he blinks sluggishly, she thinks it’s no use. He’s too smart to be so easily—

He gropes across the table and digs his fingers into the bowl. “For my wife!” he declares, and tips his head back to toss in an entire handful. He chokes at first but manages to get it all down.

Rey is so surprised she can only gape.

Ben grins smugly and rubs her breast. “You were saying?”

She holds his head in her hands and kisses him deeply. They both taste like candy corn, and for one long, glorious moment Rey believes she’s done it. She’s finally won.

“Let’s go find a bedroom,” she whispers, licking the shell of his ear. 

Ben shudders, and when he hastily stands, holding her tight to his chest despite the alcohol, he mumbles, “I love you so much, Rey, and I want to make you happy, but if I have to do that again, I might die.”

She laughs all the way to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **if you’re realizing that some of these are vaguely similar no you aren’t** ❤️


	6. Keep Calm & Scary On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey demands attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: finger action 😛**

Rey burrows further into the couch as the music swells ominously. 

On screen, two optimistic but wildly out-of-their-depth teens dart down the deserted streets of New York, dodging zombies and killer drones. Personally, she thinks the drones are a little much—as if undead, flesh-eating monsters aren’t enough to deal with, you know? 

But that’s an apocalypse for you. Horribly inconsiderate.

She peeks at Ben, who has his head tilted, eyes riveted on the screen. He’s probably mentally marking all the impossibilities he’ll want to mention to her later, and although she’ll nod and pretend to care, she’ll wonder why the actual _zombies_ aren’t top of his list.

But for now, she sinks into his warmth, tucked neatly against his side. She nudges his shoulder with her head, and he absentmindedly picks up a piece of candy corn and feeds it to her. She smiles and hums happily. 

Negotiating apparently has _some_ perks, after all. Usually she’s on the losing end, but Ben’s been trying his hardest to meet her halfway. 

(That might only be because she threw an entire casserole out of the second story window the last time he denied her, but at this point that’s neither here nor there.) 

He stuffs a handful of buttered popcorn into his mouth as the female protagonist beats an elderly zombie to death. Rey frowns—she doesn’t mind the occasional horror movie, but something about gratuitous gore offends her on a personal level—and blinks up at her fiancé, who, without taking his eyes from the screen, feeds her more delicious corn.

 _Two_ pieces this time! Wow, she must really be making an impression tonight. 

She hums and points at the screen. “Who’s that?”

“The mad scientist,” Ben says, squinting. “But nobody knows he’s mad.” 

“Ah.” Several more minutes pass, and Rey pulls the blanket up to her chin and peeks at him out of the corner of her eye. “Ben.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Why are they in New York?”

“That’s where they think the cure is.”

“Okay, but weren’t they just in Texas?”

Ben gives her a bland look. “Aren’t you paying attention?”

“Not really,” she squeaks, wincing as yet another maggot-infested zombie splits open at the swing of a bat. Under the blanket, she reaches for his hand and pulls it into her lap. 

“Hm.” His eyes swivel between her and the screen and back again. “Kinda scary, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” She pouts and pushes her head into his shoulder, coaxing his hand between her legs. “Distract me.” 

Ben smirks, his attention wandering back to the screen. She shifts on the cushion, body thrumming. When she hesitantly reaches for her bowl of candy corn, he tsks.

“Now, now. What did we say?” 

Rey bites her lip and mumbles.

He tilts his head, but his eyes don’t leave the television screen. “What was that? Speak up, baby, I can’t hear you.”

She huffs. “...You said I’m not allowed to keep the candy corn with me.”

“That’s right. Because…?” he prompts.

“I’ll overdo it,” she mutters, squirming. A shudder travels down her body to her toes as his fingers start to move. 

“Compromise.” Ben prods her lips with a small piece of candy, and she reluctantly opens her mouth. “Good girl.”

Rey chews, swallows, and licks her lips. He’s being unfair again. Somehow, he knows exactly how to get under her skin, and he never has any qualms about exploiting that knowledge. 

“I was thinking,” he announces suddenly, dragging his eyes from the screen to throw a quick glance at her face. 

She bites down hard on her lower lip, trying in vain to keep a moan from slipping free. “O-oh yeah?”

“Hands where I can see them,” he says gently, and she clutches the blanket near her chin, breathing shallowly. Her thighs are clamped tightly together, which only increases the friction. His big hand strokes slowly.

“Our wedding favors,” he continues, completely unfazed by her restless shifting. 

“What about them?” she manages, tilting her hips for a better angle. 

“Blue and silver.”

She grinds her teeth. “No. Absolutely not. You know— _oh_ —”

A gasp tears itself from her throat, and she has to squeeze her eyes shut against a wave of white-hot sensation. His fingers dip deep, deeper, until he’s sheathed to the knuckle. 

“I know what? Hm?” Ben casually tosses popcorn into his mouth, apparently unconcerned. Zombies chase after a bloody pair of minor characters who likely won’t make it to the end of the scene. 

“I—I— _mmm_ —” She twitches and holds on to the blanket for dear life. “Blue and silver—are _ugly_!” 

Ben frowns. “But yellow and white are better?”

“ _Marigold_ ,” she hisses, then opens her mouth in a soundless gasp. Oh god, she’s going to lose it before the end of this conversation, and then she’ll really be screwed—she _hates_ his blue color scheme. 

He shrugs and offers her another piece of candy corn. Her mind is getting fuzzy, stomach kindling a slow warmth, and he pops it into her mouth without waiting for an answer.

“Same thing,” he says, probably knowing this will irritate her. Yellow and marigold are each very distinct. “It’ll be a small wedding anyway—”

Rey whimpers and jerks on the cushion, legs falling open as his fingers begin to pump in earnest. She pushes her head against his bicep and bites the sleeve of his shirt, desperate to hold off an orgasm.

Looking for all the world like this is just another normal night on the living room couch, Ben chuckles and points at the TV. “Hey, doesn’t that guy look familiar? I think he’s from that show _Frazier_.” 

Rey squeaks.

“Mm? What was that?” His eyes are locked on the screen as a truly grotesque-looking zombie horde crests a distant hill. 

She tries to speak again, but her teeth are clenched so tightly because she’s _so close_ , and if she opens her mouth— Well, let’s just say it’ll be embarrassing. 

Ben dips his head until his lips brush her ear. She can smell buttery popcorn on his breath. “What is it, Rey? What’s wrong?”

Her control snaps. “ _Ben_ ,” she whines, snaking her hands beneath the blanket to grip him by the wrist. “Please, please—”

“I thought you wanted a distraction.” Ben frowns, faking concern. “Did I misunderstand?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “No, no— _Ben_ —let me come, _please_ let me come—”

“Now?” he asks, as if surprised by the request. “Are you sure, baby? Right here on our nice couch—”

“ _BEN_ ,” she snarls, and his control finally snaps too. 

When she comes, head tilted against the sofa back, toes curled, crying out for him, the world around them seems to shudder. (That might also just be the intense surround-sound system in full effect, but whatever.) For a long, suspended moment, Rey’s ears ring, and she alternates between gasps and choked moans as heat sears through her, top to bottom. She gushes all over Ben’s hand, and a slow, satisfied smile curls his lips as he curls and uncurls his fingers. 

Sighing, eyes fluttering with exhaustion, Rey finally collapses. Ben retracts his hand and uses a tissue to wipe most of it up, although she can hear the wet sound of him licking his fingers, the noise amplified for her benefit. She grasps weakly for his arm and pulls it into her chest. 

“Was that distracting enough?” he asks mildly, setting aside the remote as the zombie movie’s credits rolls. 

“Mm, thank you,” she says simply, snuggling against his side again. 

Ben feeds her one last piece of candy corn before declaring it the last one for the night. “Compromise, remember?”

She grumbles but instantly subsides when he kisses her forehead. “...Fine. But tomorrow we’re watching whatever _I_ pick.” 

“As long as it’s not—”

“ _Hocus Pocus!_ ” she sings, still weak-kneed and shaky but reviving fast at the thought of her favorite Halloween movie. 

Ben groans and turns on his side to lay his head on her chest, arms wrapping tight around her waist. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

“It’s a good movie,” she insists, pursing her lips. _Hocus Pocus_ slander will not be tolerated in this house. 

He sighs, defeated. “If you say so.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Rey, still recovering from her orgasm, strokes her fingers through Ben’s hair, thinking about their earlier conversation. _Wedding._ The very word sends a shiver of fear racing down her spine. There are guest lists to type up, gift registries to send out, food and desserts to select, and on Ben’s side, an unruly family to manage. They have nine months to get it all together, and then, in the space of, like, twenty-five minutes, she and Ben will become husband and wife. 

There’s plenty she doesn’t yet know or understand about this whole planning-a-wedding business, but _she_ does have one decision locked down. 

“Ben.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles her stomach and sighs, and although his contentment makes her unbelievably happy, certain things need to be made clear. 

“Over my dead body will we be having blue wedding favors at our wedding.”

“...Noted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last drabble for now, so have a safe & spooky Halloween!!**🧡

**Author's Note:**

> ~~say hi! (or come yell at me)~~  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/naboojakku)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/naboojakku/?hl=en)
> 
> **  
>  OTHER WORKS  
>  **
> 
> Fluff
> 
> [Saving What We Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328586) (complete)  
> [#dirtytextchallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771213) (oneshot)  
> [The Artist's Garden At Giverny (1900)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307039) (oneshot)  
> [Steal My Heart (There Are No Returns)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701381) (oneshot)  
> [Only By Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673103) (oneshot)  
> [Love Only Matters When We Bleed For It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415190) (complete)  
> [After Hours]() (complete)
> 
> Darkfics
> 
> [if you can't live without me, why aren't you dead yet?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361551) (WIP)  
> [drenched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117876) (WIP)  
> [I've Got A Dark Alley & A Bad Idea (That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814914) (oneshot)  
> [never bet the devil your head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609829) (complete)  
> [slowly therefore surely](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639642) (oneshot--for now)  
> [Chasm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962308) (complete)  
> [In Our Darkest Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810736) (complete)  
> [Stifle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724003) (oneshot)  
> [Aggressive Expansion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568556) (complete)


End file.
